To Look and to Listen
by spot-of-bother
Summary: Something had changed, he was sure of it. The air felt thicker somehow, or maybe it was just his chest tightening. Dagonet/Tristan
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.**

Something had changed, he was sure of it. The air felt thicker somehow, or maybe it was just his chest tightening.

Dagonet sat on the muddy ground with his eyes fixed on Tristan. The scout had just lifted his head and was now looking, unwaveringly, back at Dagonet. Their eyes said more than they should have.

"It's getting dark soon, we should prepare to leave." Arthur's voice broke the men out of their reverie. "Tristan, best you ride ahead, we don't want any surprises on the way back."

Tristan nodded, the only affirmation needed. He got to his feet and mounted his horse, with usual grace. Without a word, but with a final gaze at Dagonet, he rode off.

"Vanora is sure to have both food and drink ready when we get back, eh Dag?"

Bors slapped the tall knight on the back before heading for his horse, but Dagonet hardly noticed. His thoughts were with Tristan and he felt an overwhelming sense of fright. Fear for having misinterpreted the signals mingled with fear for what would happen if he hadn't. Would he ever dare go further? Could he ever face himself if he didn't?

ooooo

Tristan traveled ahead of the group through the dense forest. The tattooed man moved with stealth and speed, looking for any sign of the woads they had encountered the previous day. He was extraordinarily skilled, but today he was relying heavily on experience and gut instinct. Try as he might to concentrate on the task at hand, he could feel his mind wandering.

For as long as he could remember he had been prone to solitude. Being the son of a cold and distant man, he had learned early to keep out of the way. Not that he'd minded, really. Even then, few were the men whose company he could tolerate. Over the years he had often been grateful for the training he had gotten, being one of Arthur's knights.

What joy Tristan found in life, he found in the land surrounding him and, sometimes, in killing. It wasn't bloodlust without afterthought, more like a sense of pride of being stronger than his opponent. Tristan was used to being untouchable. Forge no bond, break no bond.

Even though the camaraderie with his fellow knights had grown stronger over the years, none of them had gotten to the very core of him. Not even Arthur. Now he knew he was about to let someone in, and it frightened him to no end. But he knew he had no choice. Dagonet held his heart, and the choice would be Dagonet's to make. Tristan could only let him.

ooooo

Back safely behind the wall the knights began to relax. Gawain was sharing a joke with Galahad while Lancelot was fussing with his horse. Arthur looked around to find Tristan, but the scout was nowhere to be seen. His absence, however common, was sometimes a nuisance. If ever his counsel was needed, it was today. Arthur hadn't had a chance to talk to him properly since the day before and he needed to know all he could about the movements of the woads, before making his report to Rome.

"Dagonet!" Arthur turned to the imposing man standing behind him. "If you could find that elusive scout of ours, I would be ever so grateful."

"I'll do what I can," said Dagonet, and with an almost fearful look he strode away across the courtyard, towards the stables.

Arthur eyed the man as he left. Over the years he had learned to respect and perhaps even love his men, and he felt he knew them well. He was certain people often underestimated Dagonet. Some things about him was plain to see – his strength, his courage, his loyalty. What came as a surprise to most was his quiet intelligence, his tenderness and his wit. He was probably the most dependable of all the knights and Arthur felt grateful for the man's ability to calm the most heated of tempers.

This trait was also perhaps the reason why Dagonet got on so well with Tristan. The stillness of the scout combined with his obvious lust for blood could make the most hardened of men feel ill at ease. Even his fellow knights sometimes displayed some nervousness in his company, but never Dagonet. On the contrary, Arthur mused, they seemed to form a closer bond as time went by. The two of them could often be found away from the others, talking quietly or just sharing an apple. Yes, if anyone could track down Tristan it would be Dagonet. Knowing he could do nothing but wait, Arthur joined the remainder of his knights and, in easy company, they headed towards the tavern.

ooooo

From his position up on the wall the scout watched as Dagonet went off to search for him. He had no doubt that was indeed what he had been sent to do, Arthur always sent Dag when he had a message for Tristan. Today, he stayed were he was, thankful for any respite he could get. Normally he would let himself be known if he sensed any urgency, but this evening he couldn't bring himself to step down from hiding. The events of the last weeks surged through his head.

_A few weeks earlier..._

They had been tracking a band of woads east of the wall. Everybody was on edge after two days of nothing but searching and waiting. Tristan was just coming back after a few hours of solitary scouting and joined the group to make his report to Arthur.

"Stop your fidgeting or go bother someone else!" Bors was talking to Galahad, who kept checking his bow and strumming the cord.

"What's it to you, old man?" The youngest of the knights asked with a look of defiance.

"It's the difference between sitting here in peace or smacking you over the head," said Bors, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"Oh, leave him be," Lancelot, not the most relaxed of men, failed to see the goodheartedness in the exchange. "Better be prepared if the woads show themselves," he concluded.

Galahad shared a look with Bors and the mirth was obvious in both men. Arthur watched, himself somewhat amused. Lancelot was a good man, but sometimes he really was overly rigid. Gawain and Dagonet came back to the clearing after having, presumably, taken a piss. When everybody was assembled all eyes turned to Tristan, eagerly awaiting what news he had. The scout looked to Arthur, who gave a quick nod.

"They're close. Another league and their blood will be ours to spill," the anticipation in Tristan's eyes was evident and when the hawk came to rest on his arm, he looked almost happy.

"Knights! Saddle up!" Arthur's orders were immediately heeded and in no time at all the men were riding hard to the east.

When they got closer to where Tristan had spotted the woads, their pace slowed. As Dagonet was straightening his gear a final time before battle, Tristan came up beside him on his horse. At first he said nothing, just kept staring straight ahead. After a heartbeat or two he turned his head and looked directly at Dagonet.

"Beware of the one with the scar across his chest, he's even fiercer than the rest."

Dagonet thought this highly unusual. Never before had he heard Tristan give advice like that before battle.

"I will certainly bear that in mind," he answered hesitantly.

The scout nodded, but seemed reluctant to leave. His eyes sought Dagonet's again. This time he looked uncertain, like he was on the verge of revealing a big secret. Dagonet waited.

"Be safe." Tristan spoke the words quietly but clearly and rode off without waiting for a reply.

Confused, Dagonet stared after him. They were knights, fighting was their way of living. It was what they did and they were good at it. Despite their friendships and the hollow terror of losing someone to injury, they hardly ever talked about it. They certainly never voiced any concern about each others' welfare before battle. This was the harsh reality, better face it alone. What could possibly have compelled Tristan to overstep these unspoken rules, Dagonet wondered. He was certain it wasn't any mistrust in his fighting abilities, which left only one plausible reason. Tristan was afraid. Afraid for Dagonet's safety. The rush of insight came to him like a hammer to the chest.

ooooo

An hour later the battle was over, the woads were gone. Most dead, some finding their way back through the woods.

Dagonet's battle, however, was not over. The tall fighter lay on the ground, soaked through with sweat. He hardly made any noise, but his pain could not be hidden. Two long arrows were sticking out of his left thigh and his breeches were laden with blood. Arthur was on his hands and knees, inspecting the wounds.

_Dear God_, _let not all this blood be his_, he thought, _for then he is already lost_.

Gawain kneeled down beside Arthur and the two of them worked together to cut away the cloth to get a better look at Dagonet's injuries. Galahad stood behind them, not knowing how to help and Bors bellowed in his usual manner. Cursing the woads and all the world.

Tristan, however, sat silent. He hesitated for a second, then he bent down and gently eased Dagonet's head off the ground and lay it in his lap. He sat as still as he could, but felt his hands shaking. Looking down he saw the agony evident in the injured man's eyes. If it was to calm Dagonet or to calm himself he didn't know, but he lifted his hand and let it rest on Dag's forehead.

"Lay still, it'll be alright." The words of comfort came easily but sounded strange on Tristan's tongue.

Dagonet heard his voice and felt the touch of his hand. Strangely comforted he tried to lift his head to get a look at the leg.

"Lay still," Tristan repeated, and pressed firmly down on his forehead until he succumbed and once again lay motionless.

"We'll have to get them out," Gawain looked to Arthur for reassurance. "I don't think we have much choice."

"Right," said Arthur, "You or I?"

Having shifted his position slightly, Tristan now held Dagonet's head with both hands. Biting down on a piece of wood Dagonet looked steadily up at the scout, while Arthur positioned himself at his leg. Gawain was ready with cloth and rope, intent on doing what he could to stop the bleeding. The others were hovering nearby, Bors now silent and pale.

As fast and as steadily as he could Arthur pulled the first arrow out. The bleeding wasn't too bad and Dagonet merely shuddered and gasped. The second arrow was worse. Lodged deeper and higher than the first it proved a challenge to Arthur, who had to twist it to get it out. This time Dagonet screamed in earnest, held down by Tristan. When they had bandaged his leg as well as they could manage, Arthur turned to Dagonet and the relief was evident in his eyes.

"You've lost some blood, but not as much as the woad whose arrows those were." Arthur glanced at Tristan who looked positively savage thinking of the way he had disemboweled the man who had caught Dagonet off guard.

"You'll live yet," Arthur concluded with a pat to Dagonet's knee.

"Damn right he will," shouted Bors. "Who else will talk Vanora into letting me have another round of ale?"

Tension easing, the men laughed hard at this feeble joke. They took their chance to mess about with Dagonet, patting him on the head while he sat down on the ground. He took this in stride, as usual, but the only thing he could really think about was how Tristan's hand still lingered at the back of his neck.

**tbc...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.**

The trip back had been a brutal one for Dagonet, but he endured pain better than most men. The surgeon took care of the wounds and was full of praise for Arthur's and Gawain's efforts.

Soon Dagonet was again up and about, but Arthur restricted him to guard duty for a while, as not to danger his recovery.

It was the feelings of the following weeks that now rushed through Tristan's head as he sat hiding on the wall. He remembered the paralyzing dread he had felt when he saw Dagonet fall. He also remembered how that dread had turned into immense relief and gratitude as he slowly recovered.

They began, more than ever, to seek each other out. When Tristan was not out on patrol, he spent most of his time sitting with Dagonet on the wall and closely keeping an eye out for anyone approaching the gates.

In fact, they used to sit right about were he was poised now, hiding from the very man he held in higher regard than any other. The tall man with the sad eyes.

_This can go on no longer_, Tristan thought, and stood up and looked down to the courtyard.

ooooo

As Dagonet was leaving the stables he looked up to the wall, only to find the slender silhouette of the man he knew better than anyone. He stopped for a heartbeat, then began his ascent.

"Arthur sent me to find you," Dagonet couldn't bring himself to say anything other than the obvious.

Tristan kept his eyes on him, but remained silent.

"He wants your report." _Bloody fool_, Dag berated himself, _it's not as if he didn't know that already_.

"It's good you came, we need to talk." Tristan's voice was calm, but he felt sick.

"I know," said Dagonet.

Then, hesitating, he took a step closer to Tristan.

"I'm just not sure I have the proper words."

What the scout saw in Dagonet's eyes at that moment was no longer uncertainty or fear. It was love, nothing else. Tristan knew he had made his choice.

ooooo

Lancelot saw them coming and nudged Arthur in the ribs to let him know. Arthur watched as the two men approached the table.

They walked, side by side, at a leisurely pace. Close together, but not quite touching. Both looked their somber selfs. Dagonet looking straight at his fellow knights and Tristan's sharp eyes partially hidden behind his fringe. There was something different, though, Arthur thought. Something in their movements that made them seem distant from their surroundings, like the two of them were the only people around. They seemed resolved.

Sitting down next to one another at the table, the two knights seemed to command attention, and the men fell silent.

"Well, how nice of you to join us," Bors said with a sneer.

Though he'd be loath to admit it, he sometimes felt a bit jealous towards Tristan. He liked the man, but nowadays he seemed to be winning the competition for Dag's attention. Truth be told, Bors missed his and Dagonet's easy companionship.

"What use is a scout if he can't find his way back?" Lancelot asked.

This remark earned him a quick glare from the scout before he turned to Arthur.

ooooo

When they had learned all there was to be learned from Tristan's travels, the conversation turned to lighter subjects. They talked of one of the horses having a foal, of food and drink and, of course, of women. The last subject ended in both Bors and Lancelot getting stern looks from Vanora.

The banter continued well into the evening and Arthur remained with the others, even if he kept a somewhat lower profile. Sitting back in his chair he took in the scene. Lancelot and Bors had, once again, resorted to bickering over Vanora and the children. Although they both laughed about it, Bors still looked a little worried. Naturally this only made Lancelot even more daring in his advancements towards the redheaded woman.

In the other end of the tavern Galahad and Gawain appeared to share both women and ale. The spirits were high, though none of them overindulged, since the movements of the woads were still uncertain and the order to leave could come at any time.

Finally Arthur's gaze fell upon Dagonet. He was leaning against the back wall with a mug in his hand, but he wasn't drinking. He seemed deep in thought, but before Arthur had a chance to further assess the mood of the man, he put his mug down and headed across the tavern. Following him with his eyes Arthur noticed a figure sitting in the dark by the opposite wall. Of course it was Tristan, who had the habit of watching rather than participating on nights like these.

Dagonet walked to stand in front of the scout, who immediately looked up at him. Then, and Arthur could swear his eyes had not deceived him, Dagonet lifted his hand and touched Tristan's face. He ran his fingers through the braids and caressed his cheek before turning and walking away. After less than a minute, Tristan followed, leaving Arthur with a thousand questions surging through his head.

ooooo

When they found each other, the hesitation was over in the blink of an eye. Tristan walked into Dagonet's embrace and they stood like that for a long time. The scout slowly stroking a broad back and Dagonet letting his hands hold Tristan's head and tangle his fingers in the long hair.

And then they kissed. A dry, soft press of the lips turned to wetness and tongue. Their hands grew bolder. When he felt Tristan's hands moving lower, Dagonet instinctively pressed their bodies closer together. Now there was no turning back.

They were both grown men, but neither could restrain himself. It had been too long and they felt too desperate. Pushing and moving against one another, feeling each other but still fully dressed, they soon found release. Laying on the hard floor, limbs entwined, panting but otherwise silent.

After a while their breathing evened out, but still they didn't loosen their grip on each other. Eventually, forced by cramping muscles, Dagonet pulled away. When they looked at each other, the feelings were so powerful, the situation so life-altering, that Tristan could do nothing but smile. The most unexpected, radiant, beautiful smile Dagonet had ever seen, and it made his heart sing.

ooooo

Arthur had trouble sleeping that night. Usually he lay brooding over strategic decisions concerning the woads or over politics in Rome. This night it was all about what had occurred in the tavern. Admittedly it had been dark in the corner and a few men had partly blocked his line of sight, but there could be no mistaking what he had seen. He mulled it over in his head.

He was aware of the fact that the men, from time to time, took women into their beds and he thought it inevitable. Arthur, better than anyone, understood the tremendous strain that was put upon his knights. Years spent away from home, fighting, solitude - all of it. He neither condoned nor forbid it, merely let it pass. But this was something different altogether.

He tried hard, but couldn't recall any time either Dagonet or Tristan had shown any interest in women. What other conclusion could he possibly make? This kind of love between men was unnatural. In the eyes of his church it was a sin and the worst kind of abomination. What he knew to be right and what he felt, though, was two very different things. He would be hard pressed to feel anything other than the greatest affection for these two men. No, Arthur certainly didn't sleep well that night.

**tbc...**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** It has been pointed out to me that it was impossible to write anonymous reviews. Well, this has now been corrected. Forgive a beginner for her little errors? Obviously I would be very grateful for any feedback, people. (Translation: I would jump up and down and perhaps even come out of hiding...)

Now, on with the story...

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**Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit.**

Tristan woke to the sound of voices. He lay still for a moment, and then he remembered. _Last night_. _Dagonet_. It felt unreal now in the gray light of the morning, but he could recall every detail. The way Dagonet's mouth tasted, the feeling of his hips moving, the sound of his voice when he came. Tristan felt the heat rise in him just by the thought of it.

Fear of detection had made them part ways when they heard the others going off to sleep. Hardly a word had been spoken between them, since neither man spoke with ease. Tristan thought, lying on his back in the bare room, that he could speak a thousand words to Dagonet and still not be able to convey half of what he felt. They would, as were the habit of both men, have to rely on actions. More than a little surprised at having been able to sleep at all, the scout finally rose from his bed.

When he stepped out to the courtyard the others were already there. Usually Tristan was the last to sleep and the first to rise, so this was a rare occurrence. Bors was not about to pass on the opportunity to hassle the man a little.

"If I didn't know you, I'd say you were either suffering from a bad hangover, or possibly had some company last night. And I'm not talking about the avian kind!"

The others smiled, but having seen the expression on their scout's face, none of them dared say anything further.

Feeling painfully observed, Tristan took to tending his horse. Hidden behind the beast, he seized the opportunity to look for Dagonet. The man was standing by his own horse, and the sight of him made Tristan ache. He had always thought him a handsome man, but today he was an epiphany. Taller than anyone else, muscular and strong. His clean-shaved head and the scar across his eye made him look dangerous. But in contrast to this Tristan also saw the tender look in his eyes and the way he was caressing his horse with big hands. The scout felt he could stand it no longer, so he made his way to stand by his side.

"Often have I tossed and turned in bed thinking of you, but this is the first time you have robbed me of sleep altogether."

The words from Dagonet were soft, but spoken with absolute steadiness. Tristan turned to look at him.

"Never have I been happier."

With these words Dagonet touched Tristan's hand, ever so lightly, and mounted his horse.

Across the yard Arthur's gaze never left them.

ooooo

The morning was foggy, and the ever present drizzle threatened to turn into heavier rain as the men rode out. They kept a steady pace and didn't talk much, each man deep in his own thoughts. As usual Arthur conferred with Tristan before sending him out, ahead of the others.

When Dagonet watched him ride off, the hawk circling overhead, he had to quench an instinct to follow him. Dag was perhaps a loner by heart, but never before had he felt the presence of the other knights such a burden. He wanted nothing more than to be alone with Tristan, but realized the futility of the notion, and so he kept his pace. Side by side with the others, but miles away in spirit.

As the day went by without any word from Tristan or any sign of the woads, the men began to speak more freely. Gawain and Lancelot was deep in conversation about the finer points of archery and Arthur was talking to Galahad of Rome, which made the youngest knight think of gods and fairytales told by his mother.

Dagonet and Bors talked of many things. Their conversation had always come easy, although it tended to be Bors doing the talking and Dag the listening. Today Dagonet was immensely grateful for his company. Apart from being enjoyable in its own right it kept his mind off Tristan. When darkness came creeping, though, he began searching the shadows for any glimpse of the scout. Finally he came, and after a few words to Arthur the order came to make camp for the night.

They all ate together by the fire. Dagonet tried repeatedly to make eye contact with Tristan, but to no avail. In fact, Tristan seemed to avoid him altogether. As they finished their meal and took to tending the weapons or just talking, Dagonet began to feel more and more uneasy. When he finally decided to ask the scout what was wrong, Tristan approached him.

"I need to talk to you. Will you come with me?" He asked, loud enough for the others to hear.

Doing nothing to hide his surprise, Dagonet stood up and followed Tristan away from the camp.

They walked in silence for a while, deeper into the woods. The rain had ceased earlier and it was quite warm. Eventually Tristan stopped and faced Dagonet.

"It's impossible to be around you," he said with a tormented look. "My feelings must be plain for anyone to see. I'm used to concealing things, but I'm not able to anymore."

Before Dagonet could answer, the tattooed man put his hands on his chest and backed him into the nearest tree. He licked his lips, then found Dagonet's mouth with his own. It was more forceful than it had been the night before. Dagonet let his hands stroke Tristan's sides before slipping them under his tunic to feel bare skin. Tristan deepened the kiss in return and started stripping Dagonet of his shirt.

Eventually they were both naked from the waist up, and the sensation of skin against his own almost made Dagonet's knees buckle. He steadied himself on the other man, but soon they both lay down on the damp ground. Dagonet spread his legs and the scout moved on top of him, kissing his neck and his chest.

After a few wordless minutes he shifted positions to lay beside the big man and, for the first time, unlaced his breeches and touched him. Dagonet bucked his hips and gasped into Tristan's mouth. The sensation was almost painful. Tristan let his hand move up and down, hoping that the actions he used on himself would also be good for Dagonet. It didn't take long for him to finish, and the moan that came from Dagonet was almost enough to push the scout over the edge as well.

Dagonet lay with eyes closed, trying to catch his breath. After only seconds he resolutely turned Tristan on his back and sat astride him, looking down. He gently leaned forward and kissed his eyelids, his nose, his mouth, his chin. All the way down his body he went, until he rested just above his left hip. With a look of determination he slid Tristan's breeches down and tasted him. It took all of the scout's willpower, and both his hands holding Dagonet still, to keep him from release. Soon he loosened his grip on Dag, but he couldn't restrain himself for very long.

Afterwards they lay, side by side, looking up through the trees. Dagonet let out a long breath.

"At this precise moment, I confess I don't much care for what the others might think." He chuckled, but his eyes were sincere. "This makes everything else seem insignificant."

Tristan saw the honesty in Dagonet's eyes and heard the warmth in his voice, still he couldn't help but feel all eyes on him as they got back to the camp. He felt them piercing into what he had hidden for so long, and it felt like a violation upon his soul.

**tbc...**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** The boys apparently wanted to talk in this chapter. There will be a bit more action in the next (if that's what you fancy).

**Disclaimer: Still not mine, no profit**.

Arthur rarely slept well during missions, and this night had been no exception. After a couple of hours of fitful sleep, he rose just before dawn. Stretching his back he glanced around the camp. The men all seemed to be fast asleep. Lancelot with one hand on his knife. Bors flat on his back, snoring. Gawain on his stomach, with the long hair almost covering his face. Dagonet curled up on his side, like a child.

As he stood there, Arthur felt a sudden rush of warmth through his chest. He loved these men. He could call it respect or even affection, but that wouldn't suffice. The men lying around him in the cold morning dew was his family now, his friends, his brothers. He depended on them just as much as they depended on him. He was all too aware that they fought enemies that was not their own. That they fought for _him_, not for some distant authority. He owed them all the strength he possessed. The insight was like a warm blanket to a frozen soul.

After a few moments Arthur realized one of the knights was missing. Galahad was on watch, but were was Tristan? Surveying the area he caught a glimpse of someone sitting in the grass, further down the hill. It was the scout. Arthur made his way over and sat down next to him. They sat in silence for a while before Tristan spoke.

"No sleep for you either?"

"Not much." Arthur admitted. "Too much on my mind."

"You and me both," Tristan said with the hint of a smile.

"Sometimes it all seems so futile. Death and despair to no end," Arthur continued.

Tristan gave him a quizzical look at that statement, but didn't interrupt.

"This life has been forced upon all of you. We have been forced upon each other." Arthur looked his scout straight in the eyes. "But whatever the circumstances, not a day goes by that I am not grateful to be amongst you. I hope I have never given any of you reason to believe otherwise."

"You have not." There was no uncertainty in Tristan's voice. "I believe we all share your sentiment on this matter. The fewer we get, the closer we become." Tristan's eyes grew darker. "Not even I can fight it."

Arthur didn't know how to interpret the scout's words. _Was he reading more into it than there was_? _Did he dare ask_?

Turning his eyes to the horizon, Arthur finally said, "No, not even you can fight love, Tristan. Especially when it comes in such a powerful form."

The words hung between them. The pivotal moment.

Tristan remained silent long enough for Arthur to doubt he would ever get a response. But then it came, in a soft whisper.

"He has changed everything."

Arthur looked at Tristan, but the scout let his head hang low, the fringe obscuring his eyes. He whispered again.

"I'm a shadow without him, Arthur." With these words he tilted his head and looked at his commander, with eyes that were so full of agony that Arthur almost recoiled. He suddenly realized there was but one option. _Who was he to judge these men_? He weighed his words with care.

"I know what is between you and Dagonet. Nothing I have been taught, through religion or upbringing, has led me to believe it to be anything other than the worst of sins. However, that is my problem, and mine alone."

Tristan looked more tormented than ever.

"Tristan," Arthur's voice softened, "I see the way you look at each other. There is more love between the two of you than there are between most husbands and wives. Who am I to say it is wrong?"

Tristan had loved Arthur like a brother for as long as he could remember and, at that moment, he knew precisely why. As they sat there, side by side under the clear morning sky, there was silent understanding and limitless acceptance.

ooooo

Arthur watched them that day. His knights. He listened as they talked to one another, and saw all the little signs of bonding between them. For the untrained eye they, in all likelihood, would seem hardened and cold, although to Arthur's eye they seemed anything but. The subtle smiles, the quick pats on the back, the discreet words of encouragement. _They could talk all they wanted about home_, Arthur pondered, _but they were home to each other now_.

Come nightfall, they once again made camp. A procedure done so many times it ran smoothly as water. This time, it was Dagonet who took Tristan away from the others. They sat down on the edge of the forest, with a clear view of the descending sun.

"I know I'm not the most eloquent of men, but there are things I want to say to you. Things I need you to know."

Dagonet's voice was deep and calm, but Tristan could see that he was struggling.

"Whatever my life has become, I have few regrets. I may have done good or evil, that is for others to decide. I've tried to do my duty to the best of my ability, even if that duty was more to Arthur than to Rome. I can not tell who I had become, had I lived a different life. I only know this, Tristan..."

Dagonet looked intently at Tristan with blue eyes.

"When the others think of home, I think only of you. This is not mere convenience for me. You could gather a thousand willing people on this field, and I would still only want you."

Dagonet fell silent. He felt like he had already spoken more than ever before in his life. He tried to read Tristan's face for any reaction.

Tristan felt like weeping. Or laughing. It was elation as he never had felt it before. He could make no response that seemed profound enough, so he said the one thing that would make Dagonet comprehend the depth of what he felt.

"Arthur knows. I've told him."

ooooo

At the camp there were whispers around the fire. Gawain had finally noticed, and so had Galahad, that Dagonet and Tristan seemed very secretive these days.

"I don't know what those two are up to, but it can't be anything good," Galahad said in a low voice.

Gawain concurred. "The two most dangerous men in the land, alone in the woods. At night. Someone is going to get hurt..."

ooooo

"It would have been impossible to keep it from him, Dag. He knows me and he knows you. He is not blind."

Dagonet looked perturbed. "What did he say?"

"Strange as it might sound, I think he was pleased. Not untroubled, certainly, but accepting."

Dagonet was dumbstruck. He knew his commander to be an intelligent and just man, but this was more than he would expect from anyone.

Tristan took Dag's face between his hands and spoke with fervor. "I don't know what trouble this will lead to, but I'm ready to face it. You're the reason I'm still alive. I care about nothing but you."

ooooo

"Perhaps they're plotting to kill the woads all by themselves," Galahad mused. "They probably would be able to."

"Or maybe they're only comparing knives. Or scars," Gawain chuckled. "Maybe Dagonet has some tattoos of his own..."

The two men laughed, but somewhere in the back of Gawain's consciousness, there was room for more serious suspicions.

That night Tristan dreamt. He dreamt of birds and of horses and of Dagonet's voice whispering in the dark.

**tbc...**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** As promised, a bit more action in this chapter. Please let me know what you think, it's like writing in limbo without feedback. The consequence if you let me carry on unchallenged, will probably be that my heart wins over my brain, and it will all end up romantic as hell...

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**Disclaimer: Sadly, still not mine. **

In the bleak morning light there was mayhem. The woads had come at dawn, far too many of them. Gawain had been on watch, and woke the others up only moments before the attack. Now they fought ferociously.

Lancelot wielded his twin swords with speed and precision and Gawain had hacked his way through the turmoil to stand by Galahad, both knights now slashing away at the blue-painted men.

Dagonet was at the center of the fight, killing and maiming with forceful strokes of his blade. He saw Arthur to his left, vicious and feral. To the right he caught a glimpse of Bors who, relying heavily on brute force, threw himself at the woads without hesitation.

Suddenly Dagonet felt something pressing against his back. _Tristan_.

"Move with me," the scout hissed.

Although they sometimes practiced fighting like this, they rarely used it in battle. Dagonet let himself gradually adapt to Tristan's pace and soon they were moving as one being. Back to back they held the woads at bay.

Slowly but surely the knight's frantic efforts began to have an effect. The enemy may have outnumbered them many times over, but Arthur's men fought with the strength of desperation. The woads were losing men at a gruesome speed, and fear came creeping.

Just when Arthur felt the first sense of despair as he saw his men tiring, the woads started to fall back. With a final arrow, promptly ducked by Lancelot, they disappeared back into the woods. The men stood panting with raised swords for a few moments, until Arthur found his voice.

"Knights! We ride for the wall."

Throwing together what belongings they had, the men hurriedly saddled their horses and headed west.

After riding hard for quite some time, Arthur let their pace slow until they came to a halt. He looked around at his men who were all covered in blood and sweat. He could see their muscles trembling as they forced themselves not to give in to exhaustion. Arthur realized he probably looked much the same.

"Are any of you harmed?" he asked.

He knew fully well that they all had cuts and bruises, but he prayed none had worse injuries. His knights were used to pain and knew how to hide it, if need be. When he was satisfied they were all in one piece, he let himself breathe again.

"We will rest here for a while," he said and got off his horse.

On shaking legs they all sat down in a clearing and tried to calm their wearied bodies. Arthur and his men had fought in hundreds of battles, but this one had been quicker and fiercer than most. Now they began to properly feel the tiredness.

ooooo

After calming his labored breathing for a few seconds, Tristan turned to Dagonet and whispered, "If I dared, I would kiss you right now."

Dagonet almost choked on his water.

"As it is," the scout continued, "I can only thank the gods that you are alive."

Hoping that the others were to worn out to notice, he put his hand on Dagonet's leg and let it rest there.

"I think you saved both of our lives back there," the tall man whispered back. "And," he laid his hand over Tristan's, "...if I dared I would love you right here, in the grass."

Now it was Tristan's turn to choke. Somehow it seemed almost more intimate to talk about such things, than to act on them.

"You can love me anywhere you please," he answered, turning his hand to hold the other man's.

"I already do." Dagonet looked Tristan straight in the eyes.

ooooo

_Admittedly I know what to look for_, Arthur thought, _but that little display was too damned blatant to miss_. Trying to draw any attention away from Tristan and Dagonet, he engaged the others in conversation as best he could.

They didn't rest for long. Soon it was back on the horses again and heading for refuge behind the wall. Arthur was in front, talking to Tristan.

"I don't know where the woads came from, but we are too few to chance a second encounter," Arthur said gravely.

"I'll do what I can to find safe passage," the scout looked reassuringly at his commander.

"I don't doubt that for a second."

The men continued in silence, everyone on high alert. They were all well aware of how narrow their escape had been.

By dusk they had made good way, and despite the knight's assurances that they were fit to keep going, Arthur opted for camp.

"We will rest for a few hours and continue at first light."

The scout, who had been gone most of the day, offered to take the first watch. He had never needed much sleep and didn't mind it. He actually appreciated the darkness and silence of nights like these. The air was agreeably warm, with a soft wind moving the trees.

Tristan wasn't a sentimental man by any standards, but this night he let himself think of past years. He remembered those they had lost and reflected on those still left. He tried, not for the first time, to make sense of his feelings for Dagonet. The transition from friendship to something more felt seamless to him. He couldn't tell when it had started to change, but it seemed like ages ago. It made him feel agonizingly vulnerable and curiously safe at the same time. He realized he had rarely felt love or even lust in his life. Now he felt both, to the point of physical discomfort.

After a couple of hours, Gawain woke with a start. He rose and went to find Tristan.

"I'll take over, you go sleep if you can," he told the scout.

For once, Tristan didn't protest. He even thanked him, which was a rare occurrence. What really perplexed Gawain, though, was seeing Tristan move through the camp and, ever so tenderly, putting a blanket over Dagonet's sleeping form.

ooooo

Even before the sun had begun to show itself, the knights were all awake and wasted no time. They rode through somewhat familiar country as they drew nearer the wall. By midday they were clear of the woods and looking out on fields of grass. Halting at the top of a hill they turned around to take their bearings, when they suddenly saw Tristan racing towards them. He hadn't been away for very long and came from a position only slightly north of them. He rode hard.

Then they all saw it, the shadow of a man, at the edge of the forest. He released an arrow a split second before Galahad ended his life. The woad missed Tristan, but hit his horse instead. The destrier fell in mid stride, taking the scout down with him.

Before Tristan touched the ground, Dagonet was already halfway there. The knights all had their bows up, but no more woads were to be seen. When Dagonet reached the scout, he all but threw himself from the horse.

Tristan was heaving himself up off the ground, looking a little unstable. He reached for Dag's arm to steady himself.

"The forest is crawling with woads. We must make haste."

By now, the others were at their side and Arthur turned to Lancelot, who was silently patting Tristan's fallen horse. The commander raised his eyebrows, wordlessly asking the question.

"There is nothing to be done," Lancelot said. With a downhearted look he added, "I'm sorry, Tristan."

Tristan went over to the beast and crouched down next to Lancelot. The two men took another moment to comfort the animal, before the scout ended its suffering with a swift stroke of his blade. They both looked equally dejected. Even though it was Tristan's loss, Lancelot had a bigger heart than any of them when it came to the horses.

Sensing the urgency, they returned to the others.

"You can ride with me," Dagonet almost managed to look completely straightforward saying this, but his eyes deceived him. He knew it was bold, but the thought of having Tristan so close made him careless.

The scout didn't dare to look at Dagonet, but simply nodded in agreement.

Soon Arthur and his knights were, once again, heading for the wall and for safety.

**tbc...**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: **Well, the boys are back. My sincerest thanks to those of you that have reviewed. I'd really like to know what all of you think, whether it is "I love you and wanna have your babies." or "I hope you die horribly, you big pile of worthlessness." I promise to take both options into consideration.

May your day be filled with joy and fancy cakes.

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**Disclaimer: Despite what I may tell myself, they are not mine. **

The sight of two grown men, deadly knights at that, riding together, might have been amusing under different circumstances. This day, with the woads so close by, nobody really felt in the mood for witticism. They also realized that it was only Galahad's rapid action with the bow that had saved Tristan's life. It had definitely been too close for comfort.

Gawain watched the two of them with curious eyes. He couldn't tell exactly what it was, but something seemed amiss. Maybe it was the protective way in which Dagonet held his arm around the scout's waist, or maybe it was the angle of Tristan's head as he leaned back into Dagonet. _They just seemed too damn_... _content_, Gawain mused to himself.

Meanwhile Dagonet was trying his hardest to keep his desire in check. Being this close to Tristan made his body react instantly. He knew that they had already taken a risk, though, so he restrained himself. Tristan was experiencing much the same. He could feel Dagonet's chest against his back, and his breath against his neck. Resolved to hide it, he allowed himself nothing more than to lean back a little.

"I don't know how much of this I can endure," Dagonet growled into the scout's ear. "I thought it was bad when I was younger and had to excuse myself after having watched the stable hands without their shirts on."

Tristan recognized the tone of merriment in Dag's frustrated voice, and couldn't help but smile at this rare insight into his earlier years.

"Is that so?" Tristan tried to sound matter-of-factly.

"Oh yes. One of the girls from the village tried to ease my pain once. Little did she know."

At that Tristan turned his head with such an incredulous look that the sparkle in Dagonet's eyes turned into a wide smile.

"Poor girl," Tristan breathed, "She should have sent her brother instead."

By now they were both shaking with laughter and the others began to notice.

"What's so damned funny?" Bors shouted from his horse.

Tristan often displayed a dry sense of humor, but the men had seldom seen him laughing like this. Once or twice after too much drink, perhaps, but never out on mission. The knights looked at each other and shook their heads in disbelief. Bors looked angry more than anything.

"Well, I'm glad someone is finding this day humorous," Lancelot said to Arthur.

"The scout must have hit his head when he fell," Bors muttered.

ooooo

When darkness settled and it became impossible to distinguish the men against the light of the moon, Tristan could restrain himself no longer. He used Dagonet's arm to balance himself and, agile and limber, he turned fully on the horse to face him. He wrapped his legs around Dag's waist and his arms around his neck. Dagonet responded immediately and found Tristan's mouth with his own. It was astonishingly erotic. The others were in front of them, close enough to hear the sound of the horses' hoofs in the grass. At this moment, Tristan paid them no mind, all he knew was Dagonet.

The man with the braids wrapped himself even tighter against Dagonet and, for an instant, it felt like he would never be able to let go. Dagonet tasted the softness of Tristan's tongue and, with strong arms, he held him close to his chest. Tristan tried to curb his need with slow, deep breaths and, through the dirt and grime that covered them both, he could feel the scent of the other man. It was profoundly familiar and endlessly loved.

Too soon they heard the voice of their commander coming from the shadows.

"We made it."

And right he was. In the distance there was a faint light to be seen, the torches mounted along the wall. Shelter.

Their return was quiet and went chiefly unnoticed. Jols met them in the stables, and after having tended to the horses and weapons, the knights went to have a well needed wash. Their clothes were stiff with dried blood and mud, and their bodies covered in scars. Some new, some old.

ooooo

Dagonet felt it an immense relief to get clean. Often he wished he could wash all traces of violence and death from his skin, but there were precious few patches on him that didn't show evidence of the life he had lead. Most prominent of all was the scar across his eye. Dagonet knew he looked intimidating to people and it made him even more reserved towards others than he was by nature. He didn't particularly enjoy being the center of attention, but his size and appearance had made him used to being just that.

As he washed he pondered what it would be like to show all of himself to someone. Despite all the years spent in company with his fellow knights, they had never seen him fully unclothed. It was a completely conscious choice on his part. If they bathed, usually in some paralyzingly cold lake, he always kept to himself. Nobody seemed to notice. Bors was the direct opposite. There wasn't a hint of vanity in that man and he usually stripped without a second thought. Dagonet envied him. It wasn't self-consciousness exactly, it was just hard to reveal to others what he barely ever saw himself.

Dagonet's body was on the mind of someone else that evening. Tristan had already washed and was sitting with Arthur and Galahad in the tavern, slowly chewing an apple.

"I'm sorry about your horse," Galahad looked fleetingly at Tristan before taking another mouthful of ale.

"Could have been worse," Tristan replied. After a brief pause he continued. "You really are quite the marksman with that bow."

The pride in Galahad's eyes at the unexpected praise was evident. He took the words for what they were, an expression of gratitude. It was more than he had expected, and he just raised his head slightly to look at the scout. Tristan, however, had already gone back to eating his apple and appeared to have his mind on something else.

Arthur could easily guess were the scout's mind dwelt. Ever since he got his suspicions acknowledged, the signs seemed obvious. Both Dagonet and Tristan were as steadfast and duteous as ever, but he could see their constant attention to each other. To his apprehension he could also see the mounting frustration and longing. It wouldn't be long before someone else noticed.

Tristan was unable to concentrate. He was dimly aware that Gawain had sat down at the table and was talking to Galahad and Arthur about something, but were was Dagonet? They had been apart for less than an hour, and already he felt the restlessness in him. Even the apple tasted bland.

"Damn it all to hell," Tristan said to no one in particular, and left the table in search for his man.

When he left he almost knocked Lancelot over, as the adust knight came to sit down.

"Why the haste?" Lancelot asked the others, but they seemed as surprised as he. Had he looked closer, though, he would have seen Arthur and Gawain share a significant glance. Arthur had no doubts about what that look indicated.

ooooo

Tristan found Dagonet outside their quarters, talking to Bors. Without as much as a look at his burly companion, the scout bent close to Dag and breathed in his ear.

"If I leave now, will you come with me?"

Dagonet leaned his face slightly towards Tristan, then took one look at Bors.

"Forgive me, my friend, but I have business to tend to. Don't keep Vanora waiting."

With a pat to Bors' shoulder, Dagonet turned to the scout.

"Lead the way."

**tbc...**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: **So, good people, here is the next chapter. Hope you will enjoy it. As always, many thanks to those of you that have taken the time to let me know what you think. I really, really appreciate it, guys :-)

If you haven't reviewed, the big, bad fanfic-wolf is probably going to eat you whole. Remember, it only takes five seconds to write "Love it" or "Hate it"...

* * *

**Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, so ignore me if I claim otherwise.**

Tristan and Dagonet fetched their horses from the stables and simply rode out the front gate. Even if Arthur wasn't with them, no one dared question his knights when they gave an order.

They headed away from the wall, towards the refuge of the forest. The evening was warm, and the first signs of summer were all around. They didn't speak until Tristan had lead them into the trees, away from spying eyes.

"Forgive my indiscretion," Tristan said with an agonized voice when they had dismounted, "But I really can't bear it any longer. Arthur can spare us this one night. I need you more than he does." He let his forehead rest against Dagonet's. "It's driving me mad."

ooooo

Meanwhile Bors joined the others in the tavern.

"By the gods! Could someone tell me what is going on here?" Bors banged his fist on the table as he sat down.

Being used to his antics, the men merely waited for him to continue.

"That damned scout of yours," Bors glowered at Arthur. "He is acting like a lovesick woman. Whenever you look, he's there. At Dag's heels all the bloody time! Can't get a moment alone with the man."

At the words "lovesick woman", Arthur and Gawain both tensed, while Lancelot and Galahad looked utterly amused.

"Got competition, eh Bors?" Lancelot chuckled. "First I steal Vanora, then Tristan takes Dag from you. What is to come next? I have seen Gawain eyeing that horse of yours..."

Even Gawain sniggered at that, but Bors was in no mood for banter.

"Oh, do shut your mouth, Lancelot. I'm serious. Those two are up to something."

"Alright, then," Lancelot said, looking slightly vexed. "Do you have any suggestions as to what, exactly, they might be up to?"

"No! If I did, I wouldn't have bothered asking you lot, would I?" Bors looked around the table, and it finally dawned on them that he was genuinely troubled.

Silence settled briefly amongst the men. Lately they had all, more or less consciously, been aware of the fact that something had happened between Dagonet and Tristan. Only Arthur and Gawain had given it a second thought, though. The others usually let things pass, as long as it didn't threaten to turn into violence. Now they slowly began to wonder if there was something more important going on.

As on cue, they all turned to their commander. Arthur, torn between loyalties, knew he couldn't give them the answers they wanted. He avoided looking at Gawain.

"What Dagonet and Tristan do in their few hours of free time is none of my concern. You will have to ask them if you want to know."

Having said that, he excused himself and left the table. As he walked away, he understood that would hardly be the end of it. His men were no fools, and this could not be hidden forever. He could still hear their voices, and he wondered which way the wind blew.

ooooo

Dagonet was fairly certain his heart would stop. It felt like he had been on edge, close to breaking point for weeks, and now all that tension came pouring out. What confidence he possessed faded fast, and he was trembling as Tristan removed their clothes with a resolute look on his face.

_What if he did something wrong_? Circumstances hadn't exactly worked together to make him an experienced man in these matters. There had been instances of quick physical gratification, but nothing had prepared him for this.

Tristan recognized his nervousness.

"Dagonet? What is the matter?" His voice sounded nowhere near as calm as he would wish.

Dagonet steeled himself. "I know violence, Tristan. I know how to handle a sword or a bow, but this I don't know."

The scout ran his hands along the other man's arms.

"I'm not sure what skills you think I possess, but believe me when I say that you probably know more than me."

Their apprehensive looks turned to smiles.

"We'll figure it out together, then," Dagonet's voice was husky as he touched Tristan's hip in a way that was so suggestive, it made the scout's blood rise.

Both men were reluctant to take command, so they didn't haste. Finally Dagonet couldn't wait any longer, and so he turned Tristan over on his side. The rest seemed to follow almost by instinct. He tried to go slow and be as gentle as he could. Stopping when he heard the other man's breathing become shallow, and pushing forward when it evened out.

When it was over, Dagonet let his eyes close and felt Tristan turn around to face him. The scout caressed his face so tenderly that he had to fight back tears. Not since his mother had given him a final goodbye, so many years ago, had someone touched him like that. It was almost unbearable.

Tristan rested his hand on Dagonet's cheek for a second before he let the fingers follow along the scar across his left eye. He recalled, all to vividly, the day it had marked him permanently. Memories of Dag falling to his knees with the blood gushing down his face. The man had recovered from that, just as from everything else, but Tristan knew it still plagued him.

Dagonet opened his eyes hesitatingly and met Tristan's gaze. He couldn't speak and didn't need to.

Despite his trust in Dagonet, Tristan had expected the experience to be somewhat degrading, but on the contrary. There had been no sense of embarrassment or shame. Partially because of the other man's inexperience and careful actions, but also because Dagonet had made it clear that it, just as easily, could have been the other way round.

With that in mind, Tristan took a firm hold on Dag's neck and leaned in for a kiss that seemed to last forever.

ooooo

As Arthur sat brooding, he heard Lancelot's voice. Looking up, he saw the man standing in the doorway.

"You know something, Arthur. I can tell when you're holding back."

Lancelot sat down beside his commander and continued, "This business with Dag and Tristan is no news to you."

Arthur looked at Lancelot and let out a sigh. There was no one closer to him on God's green earth than this man, yet he could not talk to him of this.

"Lancelot, I can not..."

The man beside him let out a sigh of his own. "I'm not asking you to betray any confidence. I just want you to know that you can talk to me, if you wish."

He did wish it, but it was not to be. Arthur rubbed a hand over his tired eyes. "I know."

ooooo

The sun was almost over the horizon when Tristan and Dagonet arrived back at the wall. Both of them realized that it would be impossible to hide their absence from the others, but neither man cared. The things said and done this night was worth every hard word they would get.

Tired, but serenely happy, they sauntered across the empty courtyard with their mounts. Tristan could hear people going about their early morning chores, but there was no one in sight.

Just when they were ready to leave the stables, after making certain the horses were well cared for, Bors stepped inside. He halted, took one look at the pair of them and then turned on his heels and left.

Dagonet stood frozen. He was well aware that he had neglected his friendship with Bors of late, but up until now he had thought it salvageable. _What if it was not_?_ What if he had gone too far_? He felt a chill along his spine and turned to Tristan with wide open eyes.

"Never before have I seen him this angry. With Bors, you should consider yourself lucky if he shouts at you. This silence is much worse."

Tristan suspected he was right. He could see the dread in the man's expression and understood it fully.

"You must go to him, Dag. Make him understand."

Dagonet looked almost defeated. "I don't know if I'm able to. This goes well past anything I have ever told him."

Tristan refused to let Dagonet yield to discouragement. "This may sound naive, but if he cares for you, which he obviously does, he will see that you are the same man you have always been."

Dagonet looked anything but convinced, but seemed to soften somewhat.

"But I'm not the same, Tristan. I'm not the man he thought he knew." He took a step closer and fixed the scout with piercing eyes. "Bors will have to stomach that fact, because that man is never to return."

**tbc...**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: **Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the butch boys are back. Those precious souls that have given me feedback will receive a big semla momentarily. (If you don't know what a semla is, let me inform you that it's delicious.)

Again, lots of talking this time. The pressure is mounting...

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**Disclaimer: Only in fluffy daydreams are they mine.**

Tristan felt his heart beat faster at Dagonet's words. He couldn't decide how to react. On the one hand all his instincts told him to keep this as quiet as possible, on the other he was tempted by the remote possibility that they would, some day, be able to stop hiding.

He recognized that Dagonet telling Bors would be equal to him telling Arthur, so he could hardly ask him not to.

Tristan drew a breath and grabbed Dagonet by the front of his tunic and shoved him to the back of the stall.

"You go to Bors, and you tell him that I have waited too many years and spent too many hours longing after his personal guard to give him up now."

The kiss that followed rendered Dagonet helpless.

When they broke apart Tristan took Dag's head between his hands and made him bend down. He kissed the scar across his eye once, twice, and whispered.

"I'll never give you up, not for anything," and walked away, leaving Dagonet short of breath, but more determined than ever.

ooooo

Bors stomped away from them with clenched teeth. He knew he was being childish, but it was of little matter now. Whatever Dag and the scout did together, it obviously excluded him. Feeling disconcerted and sorry for himself, he sat down in front of their lodgings.

Not long thereafter he heard Dagonet approaching. He didn't need to see him, he would recognize those heavy, purposeful footsteps anywhere. He didn't even move when the wood creaked and he felt the weight of the tall knight next to him.

Having mustered all his courage, Dagonet wasted no time.

"There are things I need to tell you, and I'm sorry I haven't been able to earlier."

Bors merely gave a grunt in response.

"This is not easy for me, Bors." Dagonet leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees and stared straight ahead.

Bors spat on the ground. "I'm listening."

The man ventured on. "You have always been a good friend to me. The best of friends, in fact."

"Don't take me for a fool, Dag. Any idiot can see that someone else has taken that place now." His voice was angry.

"No," Dagonet turned his head towards Bors, but got no response. "You don't understand." He took a deep breath. "During all the years you've known me, have I ever had a woman?"

For the first time, Bors looked at Dagonet. "What are you talking about?"

Dagonet forced himself to meet his friend's gaze and repeated the question with steady voice.

"Have I ever shown any interest in women, Bors?"

"No. Despite my best efforts, I might add," he snorted. Bors was clearly not catching on. "What are you telling me? That the scout has some sister or lady friend that he has kept hidden for all these years, and now you want to take her with you back to Sarmatia?"

If Dagonet had somehow imagined that Bors would meet him halfway, he had been sorely mistaken. He let out a frustrated sound and pressed on.

"That is not the case, no. I'm not getting married or having children or anything of the sort."

"What is the bloody problem, then?" Bors started to lose patience. "Why are you and that pest of a scout sneaking off together both day and night? If I didn't know better, I'd be getting evil ideas about you two!"

Dagonet held his breath and met Bors' stare straight on.

The silence that followed felt like it lasted for hours. Dagonet saw the dawn of understanding coming over Bors' face and braced himself for the punch. Still he did not speak.

Right when Dagonet thought he could stand it no longer, Lancelot came out to the yard, yawning and stretching. He seemed to be in an unusually loquacious mood, and looked wryly at the pair sitting in the half-shadow by the door.

"What are you two gossiping about so early?"

It took him a second to realize all was not well between the comrades. Then he remembered, and with a slightly more severe look on his face he squinted at Dagonet.

"Where were you and the scout last night? We thought you had vanished from the face of the earth."

Before Dagonet had a chance to answer, Bors got on his feet and glared at Lancelot.

"Who's gossiping now?" Then he walked sourly away from them.

Lancelot's eyes stuck to Bors' back as he disappeared from view. "What's with him?"

All Dagonet could do was shake his head in disbelief, and when Galahad stepped out of the door a moment later he nodded a greeting and took the opportunity to leave. He considered going after Bors, but decided it probably would be better to leave him be, for now. Instead he turned the other way and went looking for something to eat.

ooooo

As the morning turned warmer by the minute, Arthur began to feel restless. For the sake of his men he had hoped that they would be allowed to rest for at least another day. Now, when it looked like his prayers would be answered, he began to have second thoughts. The strained relationships between the knights became more and more obvious, and he wished he could refrain from speculating about the origin of these tensions.

He felt tired and frustrated, uncertain as to what he should do. Should he intervene in any way, or would it be better to leave them to sort it out amongst themselves? They were, after all, grown men and not little children. _Well_, _the devil finds work for idle hands_, he thought and went to put them to use.

During the day, Arthur did his utmost to keep everybody as occupied as possible. He even went as far as to enlist Dagonet in various repairs that was underway around the fort. He couldn't help but smile as he watched the man go about it with fervor, dwarfing even the largest of the working men and carrying burdens the others were hardly able to get off the ground.

As he stood there he noticed Tristan sitting in the shadow with the hawk on his arm. The man looked mesmerized, and you didn't need the sharpest of minds to see why. Directly opposite him Dagonet had just taken his shirt off in the sharp sunlight.

Arthur made his way over to sit down next to his scout and spoke in a low voice.

"You're not being very discreet, my friend."

The corners of Tristan's mouth twitched a little.

"Believe me, Arthur, I know a good thing when I see it."

Arthur laughed. "I have no doubt you do."

They sat in silence for a moment before Tristan spoke.

"He has told Bors."

Arthur nodded. "I suspected as much. Bors didn't handle it all that well, I gather?"

"I don't know. Perhaps Vanora can help him see reason?"

"Let's hope so," Arthur frowned and stretched his legs in front of him. "I don't believe the others are far behind, either. If Lancelot and Gawain put their heads together, it won't be long. And what Gawain knows, Galahad knows."

Tristan looked crestfallen. "Gods be damned! I never wished for this to happen. To have my life turned inside out for everyone to see."

He jerked his arms in frustration and the hawk flew indignantly away.

"I simply want to be left alone. When did my feelings become such a commodity?"

"I realize it wasn't your intent, but you knew it would come to this eventually, Tristan," Arthur said soberly. "You've made your choice."

The scout straightened his back and turned his eyes to Dagonet again. "It was never a choice, Arthur. Anything other than this would have brought me only misery."

As he said it, he knew the sun had nothing to do with the heat he felt in his chest.

**tbc...**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: **Why be out and about, when you can stay inside and set up camp by the computer? Until summer comes, I won't budge.

Big thanks to those that have given me feedback on this (especially Gargoyle13, glad you're still following!). For some reason, this story seems to attract people that don't normally like slash. I suppose that's a good thing? There is plenty of love to go around, if you ask me.

**Disclaimer: I don't own them.**

Dagonet was glad to have something to occupy himself with. Hard, physical labor was just what he needed to keep his mind off perilous ground.

As he struggled with rock and wood, he suddenly became aware that Tristan was watching him. It made him feel both tense and strangely aroused. After a moment's hesitation he gave the man a smile that was anything but coy, and then took his shirt off. It was blatant provocation, but he couldn't stop himself. His whole being ached for it.

Almost immediately he saw Arthur coming to sit by the scout. They talked for a while, and Dagonet could see that Tristan was upset about something. He quickly calmed down again, though, and their commander left. As soon as he was alone, he stood up and with fervent eyes he gestured for Dagonet to join him.

They stood close, almost chest to chest. Dagonet dripping with sweat and Tristan rigid as a board.

"Come." Tristan took Dag by the arm and led him to their empty quarters. It was broad daylight and someone could come at any time, bringing fresh water or firewood. They paid it no mind.

Well inside his room, Dagonet lifted Tristan up and pressed his back against the wall. The scout wrapped his legs around Dag's waist and let go of his shoulders only long enough to get his own shirt off.

After a minute, Dagonet pushed back from the wall and carried Tristan to the bed. With a hand on himself and his mouth on Tristan, it was only a matter of seconds for both of them.

Dagonet lay panting against Tristan's neck and allowed himself a brief moment of stillness. He touched his lips to the man's skin and wished the world away.

It was not to be, though. Soon they came to their senses and rose from the bed. Tristan put his shirt back on and looked at Dagonet. His eyes were unreadable.

Before opening the door, Dagonet seized the scout by the hand and they kissed once more, deliciously slow and lingering. With his lips still touching Dagonet's, Tristan whispered, "You looked damned fine out there, I must say," and felt Dag's mouth curl into a smile.

ooooo

Gawain was walking briskly between the buildings in search of Arthur. When he rounded the corner of their lodgings, he walked straight into Tristan, closely followed by Dagonet. Gawain looked at the two of them, a discomposed scout and a shirtless knight, and whatever suspicions he had harbored became reality.

The three of them stood there in awkward silence, until Gawain cleared his throat and asked, as straightforwardly as he could manage, "Have you seen Arthur?"

When both men shook their heads, he still kept his composure, "Very well, I'll seek him elsewhere." Then, just before he turned around to leave, he said with a hardly noticeable smirk, "Don't work too hard now."

At the last words Tristan gave a low groan and looked forebodingly at Dagonet.

"Prepare yourself. It's coming."

ooooo

Slowly the bright rays of the sun were replaced by the mild light of the moon, and Dagonet was dog-tired. Lack of sleep combined with emotional strain and arduous work had taken its toll. After washing the sweat and dirt off he almost staggered as he went to join the others for supper.

He was last to come to the table, but he was too tired to notice the knowing looks and just went to sit down next to Tristan. For a while, the only sound heard was that of seven hungry men chewing and swallowing.

Not until he had eaten a meal fit for a workhorse did Dagonet look up from his plate. His eyes first went to Tristan, and even if he didn't allow himself more than the quickest of looks he still felt his chest contract. Averting his eyes he spread his legs enough so his knee touched Tristan's. He felt the scout move his foot so that their entire lower legs adjoined.

Hoping that he looked reasonably collected Dagonet turned to Arthur.

"Any word from Rome?"

Arthur, who didn't look especially collected himself, shook his head.

"No word. With any luck, we will rest another day."

He said it, but wasn't certain he meant it. If they were to ride out tomorrow, maybe some sense of equilibrium would return to the group. Inactivity rarely agreed with his men.

"What are we waiting for?" Lancelot sounded bored more than anything. "We have never needed assistance from anyone before, why begin now? There may be few of us left, but we have killed more woads than the whole Roman army put together!"

Bors gave a boisterous laugh. "You are right about that, no doubt. I eat blue-painted men for breakfast!"

That made all of them laugh. If it was out of amusement or simply relief that Bors seemed to be back to his normal self again, Arthur couldn't tell. At this moment, he was content to hear anything but silence.

With the tension somewhat reduced, they took up conversation almost like they would any other time.

Gawain seemed restless, but kept to Galahad and settled for ambiguous glances which made Tristan very uneasy.

Dagonet tried to concentrate. He could hear Tristan talking to Arthur, but couldn't find the energy to listen properly. He still felt the press of Tristan's leg to his, and it was all he needed.

As he sat there, eyelids growing heavy, he saw a shadow hanging over him. It was Bors.

Instead of his usual slap to the back of the tall man, Bors laid his hand lightly on Dag's shoulder.

"You look like you're about to fall off the bench." His voice was raspy as always.

Dagonet looked up and met his gaze, it was steady but searching.

"You need to get some sleep," Bors sounded determined.

Dagonet paused for an instant, then answered hesitantly. "You're probably right, and I will."

Before he had the chance to say anything else, Bors gestured to Tristan.

"You. I need to have a few words if that's not too much to ask."

Tristan's eyes, almost concealed behind his hair as usual, darted for a split-second to Dagonet. Then he slowly stood and followed Bors away from the table.

Dagonet shared a concerned look with Arthur, but could do nothing but make his way to bed. Too exhausted to stay awake, but too anxious to sleep.

ooooo

Bors led the scout up on the wall. Finding a spot away from the guards, they leaned against the cold stone.

Although he looked uncomfortable, Bors began talking in an unusually hushed voice.

"You and I have never had any quarrel between us, have we?"

It wasn't clear if he was supposed to answer or not, so Tristan settled for a simple, "No."

"Good, good," Bors nodded his head. "In the interest of keeping it that way I'm going to ask you, one time only, if what Dag told me is the truth."

Tristan was vigilant. He couldn't predict Bors' reaction, but his eyes were unwavering.

"Yes."

Bors' face remained impassive.

"Very well, then," he muttered. "Makes me think twice about the whole 'royal arse-kisser' notion, let me tell you...".

_Was the man jesting_? Tristan was uncertain, so he remained silent.

Bors continued. "I love Dag better than most, but I didn't see this coming. Vanora seemed curiously calm about it, though."

The scout smiled inwardly, he had been right about her good influence.

"She said at least Dag doesn't run around making babies and refusing to marry their mothers."

Bors looked so sincere that Tristan couldn't refrain from chuckling softly. "I can see her argument."

"Don't tell her that," Bors smiled, somewhat uneasy. He ran a hand over his neck and looked out over the grounds below.

"I don't pretend to understand any of this, but you treat him good, is all I'm saying. Deviant or not, the man has saved my life more times than I can count."

"As you have saved his," Tristan's voice was soft.

"We are all brothers here." Bors turned to Tristan with a cryptic look on his face. "Some more than others."

**tbc...**


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: **To the wonderful people and superior human beings that have bothered to comment on this story I would like to say: You brighten my day! You lift my spirit! If I ever meet you I will hug you a little too long! I you ever run for President I will vote for you! You deserve only the best :-)

Enough with the babble, on with the story.

**Disclaimer: Unless this universe is just an illusion, they are not mine.**

Lancelot watched Tristan and Bors leave the table, and he wanted badly to talk to Arthur. He knew he wouldn't get any answers, but still it was his first instinct.

The four men that remained in the tavern all thought the same thing, but not a word was spoken. Arthur hoped that they would follow his lead, in this matter as in others.

Finally, it was Gawain that broke the deadlock.

"I hope Bors doesn't make an attempt on the scout's life." He smiled mischievously, "He'll never make it."

Arthur was too surprised to hold back a snort, but steadied himself before he started laughing. He tried to silence Gawain with a severe stare, but the long-haired man was having none of it.

"I'm sorry to be the one to say, but we have all seen it, have we not?" Gawain looked at the others and all joviality was gone.

"I believe you are right," Lancelot said with a sideways glance at his commander.

Galahad nodded, "It certainly appears that way."

Gawain looked at Arthur, who remained silent.

"Arthur, I do not know what this will bring, but we are not complete savages. We can not let anyone get killed. We need everyone alive."

The thought that Bors might turn violent hadn't crossed Arthur's mind until he heard it said out loud.

"I don't believe it will come to that. They will settle this peacefully." Almost as an afterthought he added, "For Dagonet's sake, if nothing else."

Although nothing was said explicitly, it was clear to all of them. The secret was out.

ooooo

Dagonet was really at a loss. He tried to lie down, but was up again in a minute. Realizing there really wasn't enough floor for him to pace properly, he sat down on a wooden chair that stood next to the bed.

It was torture to wait around like this. He tried to imagine what was likely to happen between Bors and Tristan, but his mind drew a blank. _Would it turn to violence_, _and if so_, _who's life should he be afraid for_?

When he heard Galahad's voice outside he blew out his candle. Best if they believed him to be asleep.

Weary and worried he lay down on the bed and stretched his long legs with a groan. _Patience_, he thought, and let his eyes fall shut.

ooooo

Up on the wall Tristan shook the fringe out of his eyes and studied Bors intently. _Could it really be this easy_?

"I'm not going to tell you I regret it, Bors, because I don't."

"I bloody well hope you don't," the husky man replied. "Dag may be many things, but fickle he is not. If this is his choice, he will never go back."

_If Dagonet feel anything like me he never had any choice_, Tristan thought, but he didn't say it. Instead he asked Bors the evident question.

"Why are you talking to me about this instead of him?"

That comment actually made Bors fidget, something Tristan had rarely seen.

"It seemed easier, somehow," Bors was clearly nervous about the prospect of talking to Dagonet. "If _you_ had said something wrong, I would simply have killed you," he said with a wink.

Tristan gave a lopsided grin. "Very good."

For a few moments the two men stood in silence as one of the guards came passing by. The scout looked pale in the moonlight, and his tattoos became more prominent than usual. Despite his grim appearance, he had nothing but good things on his mind.

"I think I may have underestimated you, Bors." Tristan said as the guard vanished in the distance.

Bors looked at him with eyebrows raised. "What do you mean?"

"I expected you to have real problems with this. With me."

Tristan wanted the man to understand how grateful he was. He had been certain that Arthur's acceptance was a remarkable statement by a remarkable man, and that they couldn't hope for anything more.

"I've known both of you for too damn long to fight," Bors said with a sigh. "Just don't rub it in my face, will you?"

"You have to talk to him, Bors," Tristan persisted. "He values your opinion above the others', you know that."

"Yes, I know," the knight straightened his posture a little. "I'll talk to him in the morning."

ooooo

The two men parted ways shortly thereafter, and as Bors sought out Vanora's company, Tristan stood unmoving outside Dagonet's door. He wanted to step inside, but battled himself fiercely over it. It would be reckless, maybe even dangerous, if anyone found out.

As he stood there in the darkness, the door opened to a tall, dark form looming inside. Tristan didn't have to say a word, he just nodded reassuringly to tell Dagonet that everything was well. The next instant, they were in each others' arms.

It wasn't a very large bed, but they didn't need much room. Close together, they finally found sleep.

ooooo

Despite not having slept for very long, Tristan woke earlier than anyone else the following morning. He took a few moments to study Dagonet. The man was curled up on his side, as usual, and took deep, steady breaths. Tristan curbed a desire to touch him, as it would surely wake the man. Instead, with the stealth of a cat, he managed to step outside without making any noise.

Perched on the edge of a barrel was the hawk. As soon as it set eyes on Tristan it flew to grab onto his arm. With a few soft-spoken words from the scout they both went in search of some food.

ooooo

_This will certainly be a day to remember_, Vanora thought as she stood watching Bors. He was playing with the children, evidently stalling for time.

"You have never waited this long for a morning meal in your life," she said with her arms crossed over her chest. "You will have to talk to him eventually, no matter what."

Bors looked out from under a heap of children. "How you can be so unaffected by this, I'll never know."

The woman didn't say anything, because she wasn't certain herself. She had always been very fond of Dagonet, and felt there was more to him than met the eye, but never had she talked to him about personal matters. Theirs was an effortless friendship, and she trusted him in full. With Bors, and with their children on occasion.

When Bors had confided in her what Dagonet had told him, she was surprised, but not stunned. The bond between Dag and the scout had always been of a different kind than that between him and Bors, she just hadn't realized how very different it had been.

Shaking her head, she continued to watch her man as he rolled on the floor. _Sometimes I could swear I have twelve children_, she thought with fondness.

ooooo

When Dagonet finally woke, later than he had done in a long time, he could still feel Tristan's presence in the room. It didn't surprise him that the scout was gone, the man was seldom asleep for more than a few hours at a time.

Washing the sleep from his face, Dagonet tried to collect his thoughts. If Tristan was right, their fellow knights probably knew by now. Feeling a bit overwhelmed, Dag tried to concentrate on Bors. _I need to talk to him first, then I'll worry about the others_, he decided.

As he crossed the tavern to where the men were sitting, eyes turned in his direction. He was imposing, to say the least, with his tall frame and serious demeanor. His own eyes, however, were fixed on Bors.

"Let's talk," was all he said, and Bors followed him without a sound.

**tbc...**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: **So, dear ones. This is the eleventh and, in all probability, penultimate chapter of this story. Hope you enjoy it.

* * *

**Disclaimer: They are not mine, but I am all theirs.**

From a distance, they looked much the same as last time. Sitting side by side, Dagonet with his elbows on his knees and Bors spitting in the gravel. If you looked closer, though, you would see that Dagonet's shoulders weren't quite so tense and that Bors looked amused rather than shocked.

"Maybe I should have hit the scout in the face, just for appearances?" Bors chuckled.

Dagonet just smiled and gave himself up to relief. His friend had, once again, proven to be steady as a rock.

"Just promise me you'll never ask for my advice," Bors said with a sincere expression on his face. "I don't think I can handle it."

"You have already handled enough, I believe," Dagonet replied, and with an affectionate look he added, "Thank you."

"Alright, enough of this sappiness now," with a touch to Dag's back that was close to a caress, Bors stood up. "I wasn't quite finished eating yet."

No one was more relieved than Arthur when Bors and Dagonet returned together to the tavern. They seemed just as easy with each other as always.

Bors' eyes flickered over to his commander before he made an unmistakable point by taking a seat next to Tristan. The scout's expression didn't change except for the slightest upturn of the corners of his mouth.

With a less than subtle look at his fellow knights Bors made the message clear. If anyone had objections, they would have to go through him.

ooooo

By mid-morning Lancelot was busy sharpening his blades when Arthur approached him. Leaning against a post, the commander watched as the man carefully slid his swords back in their sheaths and put them away.

"You treat those swords better than you do most people," Arthur said.

"Well, most people haven't saved my life a thousand times over," Lancelot replied with a small smile.

"True," with measured steps Arthur moved forward to stand in front of his knight. "I've had word from Rome. We ride out tomorrow, so if there is anything you want to discuss with me, now is the time to do it."

Lancelot didn't answer at first. He just looked into Arthur's eyes with an expression that was hard to interpret.

"Are you certain you can talk freely?" he asked after a few seconds.

"You know I don't want any secrets between us," Arthur said, mistaking Lancelot's hesitance for disapproval. "I feel as if the events of last night and this morning have obliterated any need for concealment, if not for discretion."

"I won't argue you on that," Lancelot said, shaking his head. "There are those among us whom I obviously don't know as well as I believed."

"So," Arthur looked intently at Lancelot. "What is your take on the matter? Have you discussed it with the others?"

"Not in so many words, no. I thought it best to keep the speculations down to a minimum," Lancelot pinched his nose, seemingly lost in thought.

Arthur waited for him to continue.

"In fact," Lancelot said at last, "I'm not entirely confident myself as to what is happening." He looked at Arthur skeptically. "Is it really true? Tristan and Dagonet?"

"It is."

"I'm sorry," Lancelot said with an incredulous chuckle. "I realize this is no laughing matter. It's just so... unexpected."

"Nevertheless," Arthur sighed, "It's real, and we all need to handle it, one way or another."

Suddenly Lancelot's eyes narrowed and he looked at his commander with piercing eyes. "What does your god have to say about this, Arthur? Surely he can not be as lenient as you?"

_Trust Lancelot to find my weak spot_, Arthur thought before answering. "He is not."

"Then how can you be?"

"As you have often pointed out," Arthur said mordaciously. "My God is not your God. None of you share my beliefs. Whatever views my church have of such unions, Tristan and Dagonet may not share those values and I have to respect that."

Lancelot studied his commander closely. "You don't fool me for a second, Arthur. This has not been as easy for you as you would like me to believe."

Arthur could only smile tiredly at that. "No, it has not. But I meant what I said about this being my problem rather than theirs." He turned towards Lancelot. "Of all the things they have been forced to surrender in this life, love will not be one of them."

They could say nothing further, but simply remained quietly at each others' side for a few heartbeats longer.

ooooo

As much as he usually sought out solitude, Tristan did so even more on this day. He wanted to talk to Dagonet, but Bors had not let the man out of his sight since their talk that morning.

Deprived of the only company he craved, the scout went about his business away from the others.

Just as he was about to tackle the inevitable and join his fellow knights, a cautious voice caught his attention. It was Galahad, standing only a few feet away.

"Not so pleasant, is it?" Galahad said with an uncharacteristically haggard air about him.

Tristan raised his eyebrows quizzically.

"Being the weak one, the one being questioned." the man continued.

Tristan frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I know all about doubts and dubious comments, believe me. Always having to prove yourself." Galahad's words were frustrated, but he sounded dispassionate.

Tristan said nothing, although he began to understand.

"No matter what I do, I will always be considered young and inexperienced compared to the rest of you." He looked at the scout intently. "We may not be much alike you and I, but I know what it means to feel vulnerable, something you weren't all that familiar with until recently."

"Stop," Tristan interrupted. With a despondent look at Galahad he shook his head slowly. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"I don't want you to say anything," Galahad replied. "I'm not looking for you to discuss any of this with me. I'm simply stating that the world maybe isn't as black and white as you would like it to be."

Reluctantly Tristan realized he spoke the truth. The only thing that had kept him from Dagonet for so long was the fear of leaving himself exposed. Now that it was all out in the open he felt defenseless in a way that he never had before.

"I hear you," he said to Galahad. "And you are right, we are not alike."

Tristan stood up and touched a hand to the other man's shoulder, a gesture so unfamiliar that it almost made Galahad flinch.

"And I hope you never become like me either. Don't let your heart harden, Galahad."

Standing so close to Tristan, Galahad could see the passionless features turn to warmth in the scout's face. It made him smile.

"It's not easy, is it?" he said silently.

"You don't know the half of it," Tristan replied, and Galahad caught the glimpse of a grin before the scout walked passed him in direction of the tavern.

ooooo

When Bors saw Dagonet's expression as he watched Tristan coming towards them, he couldn't believe how he had ever been so blind. The man looked spellbound.

Bors touched Dag's arm. "Go to him. We'll talk more later."

With a look of gratitude Dagonet took a few long strides to meet up with the scout. When they met, the instinct to embrace was so strong that Dag got his arms halfway before stopping himself. Clumsily he crossed them over his chest instead. He could feel the others watching, and judging by the tortured look on Tristan's face he felt it too.

"I've missed you," Dagonet spoke in a soft voice.

Tristan hissed. "I'll never get used to this scrutiny. Bloody vultures the lot of them."

Dagonet couldn't say anything. He knew that his own frustration over the attention was nothing compared to Tristan's.

The scout looked Dag in the eye and seemed to steady himself. Then, almost as an act of defiance, he leaned close to Dagonet, put a hand on the tall man's hip and whispered. "Not nearly as much as I have missed you."

**tbc...**


End file.
